threatened to overpower him. Felicity would live this down; it would
ultimately seem but a stormy day in the retrospect. Meanwhile, what
could he do about this chapel? Here, in this envelope, was a promise
of half the money needed, if he could raise the balance within a
specified time. He recalled having read in the morning paper of the
arrival from Europe of an old friend and former parishioner. She was a
rich woman, and was now alone in the world. Perhaps he could get away
in a few days and run down to New York to see her. He began to drum
absently on the desk with his fingers, turning over in his mind some
details in the arrangement of the chapel which he had never settled to
his satisfaction. Presently he realised that something was lacking,
and reaching forward, he took a cigar from the open box that stood on
the revolving bookcase near by.

It was noon when the mayor returned to the City Hall. On the steps, as
he entered, stood a figure long familiar in the streets of Warwick, a
blind news-vender, with his cane and smoked glasses and bundle of
papers. In the morning, he might be seen at the railroad station, a
grotesque and patient form, holding out his papers silently in the
direction of the shuffling feet that passed by. He never cried his
wares, but his appeal was more compelling than the noisy shouts of his
more fortunate competitors. He had become an institution in Warwick.
Every one knew where to find him at certain hours: in the morning, at
the station; toward noon, taking his way, unassisted except by his
cane, toward the City Hall, carrying the first edition of a great
metropolitan daily of the flaming variety; in the evening, at the
station once more. He had made these two posts of vantage his own, as
unfortunates in the Old World take possession of sunny corners beside
cathedral doors, and no one ventured to trespass within his sphere.

Each noon Emmet had been accustomed to buy a paper, paying a nickel or
a dime as it came to his hand, but seldom the penny that was the price
of the sheet. To-day he followed his custom mechanically and hurried
on, eager to plunge into the distraction of work as a refuge from the
tormenting devil within him. The outer office, lined with chairs for
visitors and adorned with pictures of former occupants of the
mayoralty, was deserted. He passed into the inner office, where his
desk stood, piled with the last mail, and sent his stenographer out to
lunch, f